


Keep holding on

by Beleriandings



Category: Torchwood
Genre: Gen, Gwen and Ianto dealing with Jack's deaths, Hugs: the fic, Post-Episode: s02e13 Exit Wounds, Team as Family, Temporary Character Death
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2020-09-12
Updated: 2020-09-12
Packaged: 2021-03-06 16:02:20
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,345
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/26431609
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Beleriandings/pseuds/Beleriandings
Summary: But the way things were now, both of them kneeling in a pool of Jack’s blood waiting for the sort of miracle that had not quite become an everyday certainty yet – and perhaps never quite would – Gwen thought that actually, she understood Ianto very well indeed.
Relationships: Gwen Cooper & Ianto Jones, Gwen Cooper/Rhys Williams, Jack Harkness/Ianto Jones
Comments: 20
Kudos: 75
Collections: Torchwood Fan Fests: Bingo Fest 2020





	Keep holding on

If there was ever a day for holding onto each other, Gwen thought, it was today.

She clasped Ianto’s bloody hands in hers. Though sometimes he flinched from her touch – which was just the way he was, Gwen had learned – this time he didn’t resist but clasped her fingers back. Whether it was because he knew it was what she needed or because he was simply too tired and overwhelmed and in need of comfort to pull away, Gwen didn’t know. But he didn’t shy away from it; he only stared down at Jack in front of them.

Jack, who was lying dead between them, a pool of blood spreading out from him across the concrete. Ianto had Jack’s head and shoulders pulled up onto his lap, and Gwen was clutching his hand in hers, the other holding Ianto’s. The two of them clung together, unable to speak for a moment, as Jack lay so horribly still between them.

The creature that had done it was slumped in the corner. Gwen didn’t want to look at it; it had teeth the length of her forearm that were still red with Jack’s blood, and the way he’d thrown himself in front of it as it had charged for the two of them would stay in her mind for a long time. Alongside countless similar incidents, that was.

The thing was, Gwen badly wanted to go home to Rhys. To phone and ask him to pick her up and take her home, let him fuss and make her a cup of tea and heat up dinner in the microwave as she peeled off her bloody clothes and got in the shower. It was in her hair too, drying the strands together, she realised. She had no idea how that had happened, how Jack’s blood could be everywhere, how there could be so much of it. Or, she did know that, of course; this was familiar, far too familiar.

She wanted to go home, to take a sleeping pill and drop out of the world for hours and hours, in some fantasy world where the Rift alarm wouldn’t wake her at least. She wanted this day to be in the past, to wake up with Rhys snoring behind her, his warm arm heavy around her waist.

But she couldn’t yet, Gwen knew. She couldn’t leave Ianto; not now. She had to stay at least until Jack was back again, because after Tosh and Owen, Ianto didn’t really have anyone else. She darted a surreptitious glance at him from under her lashes; he was pale and tense, a smear of blood across his cheekbone where he must have thumbed away a stray tear, thinking she wouldn’t see.

Gwen sighed, her heart aching as she remembered, unbidden, a day a long time ago. She’d sat in the med-bay, Rhys dead on the table in front of her, her fingers limp and exhausted in Jack’s as he’d gently cleaned the blood from her hands with a damp cloth. It had seeped into the creases in her knuckles, but he’d been thorough as Gwen had just sat there in silence. Willing the world to change around her, to bring him back, for Rhys to breathe again.

He had, in the end. Time had been rewritten: she and Ianto and Owen and Tosh had done it themselves as Jack lay bleeding on the floor. She wasn’t proud of that day, and the memory of it still hurt her, a quiet little hook in her heart that probably wouldn’t ever quite stop tugging.

But she realised something right then, looking at Ianto. She realised that was how he must feel, every time Jack died. The difference was only in the degree of certainty, of knowing that Jack would come back but not quite fully believing it. Willing him to breathe again, yet still so afraid that he never would.

The difference, Gwen thought, was quantitative not qualitative perhaps.

And with that thought her next course of action felt easy and clear. She let go of Jack’s hand, sighing as she leaned over Jack’s body and put an arm around Ianto’s stiff shoulders, resting her head against his side.

He relaxed, fractionally, as she did this; he didn’t loosen his white-knuckled grip on Jack, but it was something. She took it as an encouraging sign, leaning into his space and taking her own comfort from the warmth and solidity of him; if she couldn’t have a hug from Rhys, then one from Ianto was almost as good.

And sure enough, very slowly, Ianto unclasped one of his hands from Jack’s and brought it up around her shoulders in return. They didn’t talk as they sat there, clinging together; they didn’t need to.

They had a quiet understanding these days, her and Ianto. They did things for each other, understood the things that made the other tick – or break – with a greater intuition than before. Perhaps it had even started long ago, before Tosh and Owen had died and left them only each other, and Jack. But even before that, there had been the day when Ianto had gone behind Jack’s back to give her what she needed to lead her to Flat Holm, because he’d known she _needed_ to see, to understand. Or maybe it had even been while Jack had been away, his absence leaving a great bleeding hole in the team as they’d known it before, through which new things had grown.

Or maybe it was just _them_ , just a quiet friendship between two such different people; once – early on – Gwen had thought that out of everyone at Torchwood she’d never really have a hope of understanding Ianto at all, different as they were. But the way things were now, both of them kneeling in a pool of Jack’s blood waiting for the sort of miracle that had not quite become an everyday certainty yet – and perhaps never quite would – Gwen thought that actually, she understood Ianto very well indeed. He’d certainly come to mean a lot to her, for what it was worth. And she knew that though he mostly only showed it by gesture, by small kindnesses and coffees in the morning before she asked and quietly doing the tasks that made her cry to even contemplate, that she’d come to mean a lot to him too.

It was at that moment, as they were holding onto each other, that Jack convulsed suddenly, breathing in a great gasp of air and jerking upright. Gwen swore under her breath, wondering – not for the first time – if Jack really _had_ to come back to life with so much drama. Perhaps that was just how he was though, she thought with resignation.

She smiled as Jack sat up, kissing her on the forehead and Ianto on the mouth, swift and fierce and reassuring, before pulling them both into his arms; Jack was still covered in blood, getting it on both of them. But since they were already soaked in it anyway even Ianto didn’t object.

Jack’s arm came up to hold her around her waist, and she breathed in the familiar smell of him, letting it reassure her. Gwen’s eyes met Ianto’s over Jack’s shoulder, and he gave her a quick smile that spoke of more bone-deep gratitude than she thought he could have expressed in words if he’d tried.

Gwen brought her arm up, both wrapping around Jack’s waist and clasping Ianto’s hand across the gap between them, fingers entangling with his.

They stayed there for a long moment, Jack holding them close before breaking away, all of them eventually scrambling to their feet to begin the task of dragging the dead creature to the SUV. When they got back to the Hub, Gwen knew, then she’d finally be able to call Rhys, to have that shower she wanted, to let sleep take her and hope tomorrow was better.

But for now there was still work to be done. And she’d stay with them, stay with Jack and Ianto, until it was finished.

**Author's Note:**

> For the bingo prompt: "team bonding". But actually it's just a lot of hugs. Like, it's just hugs, guys. Hugs all the way down, etc. because they deserve it.


End file.
